


that greater good shit

by Scientia_Fantasia



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, marcus has had a bit of a rough time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientia_Fantasia/pseuds/Scientia_Fantasia
Summary: Marcus freaks out during a mission. Wrench goes and fetches him because DedSec means family and family means no one gets left behind





	that greater good shit

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for brief allusions to child abuse and also this entire thing is just a whole lot of lowkey trauma bs

His phone buzzed, scooting across his workbench in short bursts. Wrench squinted at it. There was a reason he'd come to work in his garage, and that reason was to not be around people for a while. Still, if it was important enough to actually call--  
  
He noticed that the screen said 'Retr0.' His train of thought froze in its tracks. He answered.  
  
"Hey, what's up?"  
  
Wasn't Marcus out on an op? Why would he...  
  
"Hey," Marcus echoed. But his voice was _far_ from casual. Wrench was no expert on reading the mood of a conversation, but Marcus was _definitely_ freaking out. And was that water lapping up against something?  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, bracing himself on his workbench. His voice wasn't as steady as he wanted it to be. "Do you need backup?”  
  
"I fucked up, man," Marcus answered, voice quiet and unsteady. "I thought I was out, but--they saw me, man, I had to run, I had to--" His voice caught, and his breathing was dangerously close to hyperventilation territory.  
  
"Marcus. Marcus, just breathe," Wrench said, trying his best to sound level-headed. Which, fuck, that was _not_ his strong suit. Where was Sitara when you needed her? "Are you hurt? Where are you?"  
  
"Under the pier," was the answer, which was both vague and enlightening. That would explain the water. "I had to--they got helicopters and shit. They...I...I don't think I'm gonna make it."  
  
"No--no, no, no, don't say that." Fuck, now he was freaking out too. The thought of losing Marcus was...was not something he could think about right now. He took a breath and sat down, hoping that might trick his brain into chilling out. "You've made it out of way worse, Marcus. Like--remember Invite?"  
  
"I almost got _shot_ at Invite." His voice was breaking, now. Well, that didn't fucking help. "Wrench...Wrench, I don't wanna die out here, man."  
  
Okay, yep, time to stop being calm. "You're not going to." He stood up and opened one of the doors to the garage. "I'm coming to get you."  
  
"What? You can't--"  
  
"Shut up, Marcus. I'm gonna call in a few favors, I'm gonna get the police off your tail, and I'm gonna come pick you up. Where are we meeting."  
  
There was a pause. A much shorter one than Wrench was expecting, which meant it was worse than he thought. "...okay. Okay. Uh...remember that...that gift shop with the fucked up swim team sweatshirts?"  
  
"Uh...yep. Half an hour. I'll be there, okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." He took a breath, deep and steady. "I...thanks."  
  
"See you soon."  
  
\---  
  
He didn't move an inch that entire half hour. He barely breathed. Even when the thrum of helicopters faded away and he stopped seeing the shadows thrown by flashing lights driving by. Even when he started losing feeling in his extremities. It wasn't until his phone buzzed that he finally stirred, pulling it out and finding--thank God--a text from Wrench, reading 'beep beep.'  
  
He stuck his phone in his bag and stood up, shakily, clothes still dripping from when he'd jumped in the water. There was probably a way to get back up without going for another swim, but at this point he just wanted to be out of there. He waded back into the water and swam over to a ladder, climbing up and poking his head out. There were civilians wandering around, which meant the area hadn't been cordoned off, at least. He'd take it.  
  
He didn't have the sense of mind to disguise his haste as he made his way towards the tourist trap, though his stiff legs and numbing feet probably helped pass him off as a drunken college kid, which most people wouldn't have given a second thought to at that time of night.  
  
There were only two cars parked in front of the store, and one of them had its windows cracked and was jamming to the CyberDriver soundtrack, so he walked over to that one and tapped on a window. He would have been endeared if he wasn't still freaking out.  
  
The door unlocked and he slid in, relieved to see Wrench drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Though surprised to find Wrench looking back at him with an expression of concern on his face. Like, on his _face_.  
  
His surprise must have shown, because Wrench quickly looked away, starting the engine. "Didn't want to attract attention," he muttered, pulling out of the parking spot. "Are you hurt?"  
  
"Nah," went Marcus, slouching and pulling the brim of his hat down. "Nothing serious."  
  
"Define 'serious.' "  
  
"I mean I might be a little sore in the morning, Wrench. That's it."  
  
"Alright." He glanced over Marcus, briefly, as if he didn't quite believe him, but was apparently satisfied with his conclusion. Though he did turn the heater on full blast, which was a blessing. Marcus held his hands out to one of the vents.  
  
Man, not even a joke about being sore in the morning? He must have really freaked Wrench out. Though, he couldn't blame him--he'd probably be in a pretty bad state, too, if he got a call like that.  
  
Or...was the person making a call like that.  
  
A shiver ran through him as his brain flipped the panic switch back on, apparently deciding he was safe enough to freak out again. Which, alright, fine. He kind of was.  
  
He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. He tried to take deep breaths as something in his chest constricted. He kept telling himself that he was safe.  
  
Ten or twenty or a million minutes later he opened his eyes again and blinked until his vision cleared. Alright. He was good. For now.  
  
He looked over at Wrench, who looked away. Marcus smiled, and shook his head, facing back out the window.  
  
Y'know, now that he thought about it, the ride back had been really smooth so far. Usually when he rested his head on the window it was under the assumption he was going to get it jostled a little, but...  
  
He glanced over at Wrench again, who had taken to actually paying attention to the road. "Wouldn't have pegged you as the careful driving type," he said, surprised by how rough his voice came out.  
  
Wrench tilted his head, and Marcus immediately saw the two flat dashes of an emoticon in his mind's eye. But Wrench's face was just...blank.  
  
"I get that a lot," he said. "My dad..." He frowned, taking a moment to think something over. Then, "My dad taught me to drive in this shiny red BMW he'd got a couple months before. Just looked like any other fuckin' sedan to me, but that thing was his _baby_. Threatened to kick my ass if I so much as scratched it, so I learned not to." All said with a convincing level of casualness even as his grip on the wheel tightened. "Guess it stayed with me."  
  
Marcus nodded, looking towards the floor. "Kinda' thing tends to." There was definitely a word for 'that kind of thing,' but if Wrench wasn't going to use it, Marcus wouldn't bring it up. "Never heard you talk about your family before."  
  
"Nope," agreed Wrench, with a complete lack of joviality.  
  
Right. He could take a hint.  
  
\---  
  
They drove back to the hackerspace, and Marcus' state of dress lasted about as long as it took for him to realize they were the only two people there. Once that was established, he hopped out of his shoes and left a trail of sopping wet clothing all the way to the lockers, where he pulled out the softest pullover and sweatpants he had stashed there, slipping them on and rubbing at his arms. "Gets fuckin' cold out there," he said between his teeth.  
  
He looked over at Wrench, who was, against all odds, hanging Marcus' jeans over the back of a chair to dry. " _I_ can do something about _that_ ," he said, turning on his heel and walking over to him. He pulled Marcus into an all-encompassing hug, wrapping his spindly arms around him and holding him to his chest.  
  
This suited Marcus perfectly. He pressed his face into Wrench's shoulder and curled up tighter, trying to leech as much warmth off of him as he could.  
  
Wrench let his head rest against his. "Do you...wanna talk about it?"

Did he? "What's there to talk about?" He extracted his arms from where they were pressed up against Wrench to slide them around his waist instead, holding him closer. "The job sucks sometimes. But we have to do it."  
  
"Someone has to," Wrench agreed. "But that doesn't mean it has to be us. No one here expects anyone...no one here expects  _you_ to be some kind of martyr. If you need a break..."  
  
He laughed. He laughed before he really knew why, pulling away to look Wrench in the eye, a sardonic smile tugging at his face. "Nah, man. Nah, it ain't like that." He shook his head as he tried to gather his thoughts, smiling in question. "I'm not here to sacrifice myself. I mean, I'm all about that greater good shit, but this...no, I'm doing this for me. I couldn't...I can't go back to knowing all this is happening and not being able to do shit about it. Like, it's scary, man, it's fuckin' scary, but..." He swallowed, thickly, as that fear came back to him, vision blurring. "I'd rather be shot. I'd--I'd rather be shot than know some dude in a tracksuit is robbing my whole neighborhood 'cause--'cause no one who can cares enough to stop him. I'd rather die doing this than live like that."  
  
He looked up at Wrench, frowning defiantly even as tears ran down his face. "If someone's gonna kill me, fine. But the motherfucker's gonna look me in the eye when he does it."  
  
Wrench...nodded. He nodded, and put his hands on Marcus' face, brushing his thumbs under his eyes.  
  
"Fuckin' A, man," he mumbled, eyes turned downward. "If it's all the same though, I kinda' like you better un-shot."  
  
Marcus smiled, and laughed helplessly, and leaned forward to kiss him. "Same here," he said, softly. "And hey, same goes to you, _Wrench_. How about you exercise a little more caution with those pipe bombs?"  
  
Wrench stared at him. And then scrunched his nose up in a smile, pulling him closer to bury his face in Marcus' shoulder. " _Fine_ ," he said. "But only because I like having ten fingers."  
  
"Mm-hm," went Marcus. "I love you too."  
  
Wrench paused, the phrase bring about the same hesitance it always did. "Yeah," he went, quietly, with the sincerity that came from hiding his face. He held Marcus closer. "Yeah."


End file.
